I
went out Saturday morning to see Alonzo about doing some things
for Clara and trying to get him into the printing business with
her so that he could forget the girl that Sister claim is
pulling him down. There was a terrible scene at the shop where
Sister came in crying and threatening to brain Alonzo with her
slipper heel. This was on Saturday. I talked to her and to him
and sent her back home, wiping her eyes and still threatening to
kill Alonzo.

I
talked to Alonzo and then called up Clara and made a date to see
her in town. I saw that everything seemed so messed up all
around. I had just received a poem from Vi, and that let me down
no end. (No it was Saturday morning while Ruth was here sneaking
her things out that I went to Sister's and received the poem
from Vi.) Anyway, I saw Clara, went down to her home after
eating at the restaurant, and then later we went to the shop. I
came away and brought some printing with me that I was trying to
get Alonzo interested in.

Saturday
morning I went out to see Alonzo, as I have said and got back to
find that Ruth had taken her things. I went down town to see
her. She was not at the place of her father's nor at her Nanan's.
I went there for the first time and sat down and waited for
about two or three hours and she never showed up. I left a
message for her to phone me at Sister's, but after waiting there
sometime left home without getting any call.

I
came back here and found that she had left two suitcases and a
few other things. I have no reason to advance for her doing
this, except that she is more off than I think. So I am packing
up her things today -- in fact, everything that might remind me
of her, and am going to either ask that she come and get them or
else take them to her.

Among
the things that I am discarding . . . is that old calendar (Jax)
with the three long-eared puppies on it. It is a gaudy thing
that was given to me by Ruth -- her first and almost her only
present to me -- it is. She told Grace that since I like dogs
she was giving me that calendar. I have kept it hanging in the
kitchen for all of these years . . . I kept it there to remind
me of what a fool I have been, and yet when she came back with .
. . about having changed, and being sorry, I took her back . . .
. it is no use to keep anything to remind me what a fool I am. I
am packing it up with her other things and sending it to her.

I
have found her Bible in which is enclosed our marriage
license . . . . Studying the calendar and the marriage
certificate, I find that we were married on March 15, 1943, and
that it is recorded in Book N. 58, folio 908. The number of the
the certificate is No. 2802. The calendar says that this was a
Monday. Ruth was then at the high, normal point. All that had
been had happened on the latter part of the last month and the
quarrel at home had forced her still more securely into my arms.
We had quarreled about his time -- must have been the first or
so, and I had asked her to release me from the affair. She had
promised to do better. I warned her again, but agreed to go
through with the marriage.

In
the Family Register, on p. 753 she has inscribed our marriage in
a steady, sure hand. The handwriting seems very certain where it
is going. There is no hesitation. The letters seem to walk
forward in their desire to get ahead. There are flourishes at
the ending of words. Everything is there, when, where, and by
whom we were married.

On
the second to the last flyleaf of the book is the list of names,
with the caption "Names I Like." Among the fifteen
men's name, mine is sixth. Ian and Joel are first. There are
unusual names like Valjean, Coidoivic, Henried, and Duval. Among
the eight girl's names are Bonne, Anathiste, Athenaire, Thais,
Roselyn, and Joycelin. The writing is in pencil.

There
is a cheap bookmark, advertising a Chicago evangelist, placed on
the second chapter of Genesis where God creates a wife for Adam.
It continues to the expulsion and a good part of where Cain
kills Abel. The story is beautifully told. On the title page of
the book is the filled in portion, saying that it was presented
to Ruth by her mother.

Study of the blacksmith
tradition and New Orleans famous lace
balconies and fences.

Acclaimed during his life as the unofficial
poet laureate of the New Orleans
African-American community, Marcus Christian
recorded a distinguished career as
historian, journalist, and literary scholar.
He was a contributor to Pelican's
Gumbo Ya Ya, and also wrote many
articles that appeared in numerous
newspapers, journals, and general-interest
publications.

This book explodes several myths: that selling sex is completely different from any other kind of work, that migrants who sell sex are passive victims and that the multitude of people out to save them are without self-interest. Laura Agustín makes a passionate case against these stereotypes, arguing that the label 'trafficked' does not accurately describe migrants' lives and that the 'rescue industry' serves to disempower them. Based on extensive research amongst both migrants who sell sex and social helpers, Sex at the Margins provides a radically different analysis. Frequently, says Agustin, migrants make rational choices to travel and work in the sex industry, and although they are treated like a marginalised group they form part of the dynamic global economy. Both powerful and controversial, this book is essential reading for all those who want to understand the increasingly important relationship between sex markets, migration and the desire for social justice. "Sex at the Margins rips apart distinctions between migrants, service work and sexual labour and reveals the utter complexity of the contemporary sex industry. This book is set to be a trailblazer in the study of sexuality."—Lisa Adkins, University of London

Contrary to the
rosy picture of race embodied in Barack
Obama's political success and Oprah
Winfrey's financial success, legal
scholar Alexander argues vigorously and
persuasively that [w]e have not ended
racial caste in America; we have merely
redesigned it. Jim Crow and legal racial
segregation has been replaced by mass
incarceration as a system of social
control (More African Americans are
under correctional control today... than
were enslaved in 1850). Alexander
reviews American racial history from the
colonies to the Clinton administration,
delineating its transformation into the
war on drugs. She offers an acute
analysis of the effect of this mass
incarceration upon former inmates who
will be discriminated against, legally,
for the rest of their lives, denied
employment, housing, education, and
public benefits. Most provocatively, she
reveals how both the move toward
colorblindness and affirmative action
may blur our vision of injustice: most
Americans know and don't know the truth
about mass incarceration—but her
carefully researched, deeply engaging,
and thoroughly readable book should
change that.—Publishers
Weekly